


Darkest Throne

by myscribblings



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myscribblings/pseuds/myscribblings
Summary: Alternate universe for Knights of the Eternal Throne, telling the story of Arcann as he recovers from his mother's death on Voss.





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> [Phares](https://swtorramblings.tumblr.com/post/159549905635/phares-neutralish-sith-juggernaut-and-antagonist), Sith Inquisitor Outlander.
> 
> Five short chapters, which do not really deviate from the original story (they could be assumed to be happening off-camera from the game), followed by five somewhat longer ones, which deviate substantially.

The usurper continued to shout, taunting him, trying to keep him from fleeing. “Butchered by the son she sought to save!”

His mother was dead. He had felt it. He remembered nothing of the last hours. Could it be true? Could he have killed her in his rage, like his brother?

Could this be his fault?

It did not matter for now. Screaming in anguish, he collapsed the rocks towards the Outlander and fled into the shuttle. He was too injured to fight, too weak to do anything but flee. He did not want to die here, in the place Senya had.

In the place he had killed her.

His mind had been filled with rage. Rage at the Outlander for humiliating him, defeating him. At his sister, for her attempt to kill their mother. At himself, for killing Thexan.

At his mother, for the pity she took on him.

He had done it. He must have done it. She would have been defenseless against him. She could have fought off anyone, he knew it. She would have defeated the usurper. But she would have been helpless if her son had lashed out in his rage.

He had done it.

He could not see. His tears blinded him. The damaged cybernetic arm was shorting out, injuring him further. He used his weakening Force powers to pull it from the metal socket, and collapsed in the seat when the pain was too much.

The shuttle flew on, eventually reaching the few Knights still loyal to Senya. They had been stationed on Voss to aid the escape, if necessary. Now they would help Arcann alone.

Had he been conscious, he might have asked them to leave him.


	2. Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the death of Senya, Arcann awakes on Tatooine, and attempts as best he can to make a new life for himself. Takes place during KotET Chapter 2.

When Arcann finally woke, he was on Tatooine, in a hidden medical facility. The desolation of the world suited his mood. This place would be adequate for his exile. He was not going back.

Soon, he was able to move about on his own. The damaged arm and mask had been removed, and replacements were not readily available on this backwater world. He was alright with that, and it made him harder to recognize. Simply a scarred man with a missing arm. After decades of galactic war, he should not stand out.

He still heard from his mother’s contacts from time to time, the few that were left. He knew they would warn him should anyone come looking, whether his sister or Phares, the Alliance commander. Apparently, Phares had disappeared during a meeting with the Sith Empire’s leader.

Arcann did not care. He had no hate left in him for anyone but himself. The only good he had ever done he had also destroyed. If he were to die out here in the sands, no one would care, or if they did it would be to celebrate.

He had to wonder what would cause Vaylin to hate him more: standing with their mother, or killing Senya rather than letting her do it. Regardless, he knew he could not go home. He still heard her, the betrayal she felt, and knew it was fair.

Eventually, the hot sun and routine life left him feeling numb, but the pain would come back to him every night. He slept fitfully, and often considered ending his own life. He always pulled himself back, but could not help but wonder why.

One night, though, there was another presence in the cave he lived in, a gentle glow, a feeling of love.

“Mother?”


	3. A Mother’s Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann's mother appears to him from beyond death, and tells him a truth that changes his course.

“Mother?” Arcann had asked the disembodied form before him.

She smiled at him. “My son. I am sorry. Sorry to have left you. Sorry that you were lied to.”

“Lied to? What is this?” He had almost denied her presence, but he could feel it. This was truly Senya Tirall.

“Yes, the Outlander lied to you. It was not you, Arcann.” She reached out a hand, tried to touch his cheek, pulled it back. “She struck me down, not you, never you. You have despaired because of this lie. Please, be at peace.”

Her eyes plead, and for a moment, he thought he could. Then, the rage returned. Phares had lied. She would pay, for what she had done to Mother, for what she had done to him. He would destroy her, whatever he needed to give up to do it.

Senya looked at him, her hopes for him finally crushed. “You won’t, will you?”

“I am sorry, Mother, you must hate me.”

“Never. I am sad for you, and I fear for you. Your sister, as well. But I will always love you both. Good-bye, Son.”

With that, his mother’s spirit faded. The feeling that he had, before she had appeared, during their talk, was completely absent. Had she ceased to exist completely? While his course was set, he still hoped to someday see her again. After he had done what must be done, even if he only saw her after he, himself, had fallen.

Now, however, it was time to prepare. The Throne would be his again, even if he had to destroy the last of his family to make it so. The Outlander and Arcann’s father would be destroyed, whatever it took, by his hand.


	4. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann, knowing that Phares lied to him and killed his mother herself, prepares to take the Throne while both his sister and his father’s puppet are missing. Takes place during Chapter 4 of KotET.

The Gravestone and a contingent from the Eternal Fleet were still missing, along with Arcann’s sister, Commander Phares, Scorpio, and quite a few high-ranking Alliance members. He hoped that there would be time to take advantage of this. Perhaps they were all dead and he would not need to rush his plans.

He did not believe that. He would have felt it if his sister had died, and the galaxy would if his father had. He would have to work for his prize.

He had sent words to his own loyalists, as was his right as the eldest surviving child of the Emperor. Would they be loyal if they knew everything? He doubted it, but it made no difference. He was willing to do far worse than lie to those who should obey him.

They had found a cybernetics expert who was able to fit him with a new arm, a new mask. He considered killing the woman, but could feel her fear. Fear of him, of his rage. She would not speak of this, and she might prove useful later. He would not make the mistakes of his time on the Throne. The mistakes his sister continued to make.

He then traveled to Ilum. He would need a weapon, a lightsaber specially designed for his own use, with a crystal fully attuned to his power. He slaughtered over a dozen Jedi and Sith in his quest, taking their weapons to use until he had one of his own, smashing each one for the parts he would need as he acquired another.

The discarded crystals glowed for a time in the snow, eventually faded as had the lives of their wielders.

Finally, carefully, he concentrated his power on the pieces of his fallen foe’s lightsabers, and they came together perfectly, as expected. The crystal he had torn from the world was set in place. He hefted the completed weapon in each hand, felt the perfection in both his living and metallic ones. Then in both hands. He activated it, held it aloft, and an unseen smile formed on his face as he felt its power.

He was ready.


	5. The Throne is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcann and his forces attempt to take the Eternal Throne while Vaylin and the Outlander are still missing. Takes place during KotET Chapter 5.

Arcann had spent time gathering forces loyal to him. They were not many. Vaylin’s public execution of a dozen Knights, while it had turned some of the citizenry against her with its brutality, simply did not have the same effect on men and women that had been forced to fight their friends to the death at his command.

Still, the Knights drew power from their devotion to the Throne, and even after his downfall, Arcann had the stronger claim. With him leading his own forces, and Vaylin unable to lead hers, he had believed that he could win through. The opposing Knights would surely break quickly without her there to counter Arcann’s power.

It had not worked that way. His forces were on the run, driven back by a concerted effort far beyond what he had seen before, even from these elite forces. Their devotion to her was greater than it had ever been to him, possibly even greater than it had been to their father. Finally, he understood his mistake: he had incited their fear of him, and she had somehow increased it many times, along with their rage. He wondered if she was even conscious of it. The Knights now feared death less than they feared him.

They would not break. They would not back down. Every one of them would have to die, and he simply did not have the forces necessary to accomplish that.

While his losses were considerable, the attempt had allowed him to find sanctuary on Zakuul for his surviving forces. They would need time to bind their wounds and form a new plan, but he would not be driven from his home again. The Throne could still be his.

Then, the news came: The Empress had returned. With her return ended his best hope of taking back what was rightfully his.

He glared at his Knights. For a moment his old self tried to emerge, tried to blame them for this setback, thought of killing them to sate his anger. He knew, though, that it was not their doing. He had spent too long preparing, and it was his orders that caused the buik of the Knights to hate him. He had wasted their lives, and it had cost him his victory.

This celebration held some promise. He could not tell if this was somehow meant to lure in her enemies, or if it was her hubris, but if they did come, he might be able to turn it to his advantage.


	6. Kneel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After failing to take the Throne in Vaylin's absence, Arcann chooses to confront her and demand that she return it or die.

“Hunt my sister!”

He would find her. He would demand the Throne, and if she refused, he would take it by force.

His step slowed. And what then? He knew he could win that fight, though it was far from certain. She had power, he had control. She had the skill of practice, he had the experience of war. They were well matched. He could defeat his sister. And, if he should lose, and die, that was a fair gamble, with so much to gain.

But, what if he won? He would be Emperor, he would strike down his father and the Alliance. And he would be alone. He saw his mother, dying in the temple, as he saw her in his nightmares. He saw Vaylin dying by his hand, and had to admit that was his plan all along. She would not surrender the Throne, and one of them would die. Would that be worth it?

No. It would not.

He saw her, then, fleeing from the Outlander. She had humiliated his sister before the galaxy. Had used the tortures of her childhood against her. Had killed their mother. The ultimatum was on his tongue, but he stopped.

He finally understood. Had he listened to his sister, his mother would still live. Had he struck mercilessly with all the might at his command, his mother would still live. She would have grown to hate him, regardless of what her spirit had said, but she would have had that chance. The usurper had lied, and for that she would die, but Arcann knew that he had a hand in his mother’s death. He would have no hand in his sister’s.

They would not take from him again. He would lose nothing else. The galaxy would burn first. 

As she approached him, warily, he made a decision. He knelt down, bowing his head. “Command me, Sister.”

She was shocked by this. She would never have done it for him, but finally, she smiled with what resembled gratitude. “Thank you, Brother.”

The Outlander came around the corner, and shouted, “Kneel before the Dragon of Zakuul!”

He watched as Vaylin doubled over with the command, as she had on the broadcast. He could sense the pain raging through her body, feel the waves of her fear. Fear from his normally fearless sister.

The usurper had done this. The usurper, and his father. Arcann would make them pay. 

Vaylin gasped, “Help me, Brother.”

“Yes, Empress.” His exposed eye narrowed at the woman in front of him. He felt the hate grow, the hate he felt for the Sith that had killed his mother. For the father that had tortured his sister, was torturing her now. Had tormented him and his brother. The power of his hate was exulting. There was a time he might have been frightened of it.

That fear was gone, now, crushed on Voss, on Tatooine.

He leaped, engaging the Outlander. Three of his knights arrived and struck at the man with the Outlander. Shan, if he wasn’t mistaken.

Phares shouted, “Why are you protecting her? Can’t you feel it? She hates you!”

“And I hate her. But she is mine. You will not take her.” Arcann lashed out, then, feinting with the lightsaber and, when that was deflected, simply punching the Outlander with his robotic fist. He felt ribs crack. It was almost over, he moved to finish his opponent, when he sensed another attack.

His knights had been disabled by the spy, amazing as that seemed. The man was very good, and Arcann had to defend himself. Then, a hoverbike almost hit Shan, just as two other members of the Alliance arrived, the droid and Beniko.

“Brother! To me!” Vaylin shouted behind him. She flung the bike off over the edge, then jumped after it.

Well, he had thrown his lot in with her, now, so he ran to the edge and prepared to leap over it when she rose on the vehicle she had just used as a weapon and smirked at him. “Well, get on!”

He jumped aboard, and before any of the Alliance could act, they sped away.

* * *

Later, when they had boarded her flagship, Vaylin had only one order, “Bombard them!”

One of the knights protested, unwisely, “But, Empress, your supporters...”

He was lifted from the floor, strangling, struggling. Her brother disapproved. There had been a time when he would not have cared, would have done the same. He had killed half of them, out of spite, and she had been right to disagree. It wasn’t that he cared for the knight, it was just foolish to squander the resources. “Sister, let him live.”

She turned to him, one eyebrow arched, and asked, “Why?”

“Because you were right. Because if you kill him he will not be there to kill and die in your name.”

She considered for a moment, and finally scowled and threw the Knight roughly to the floor, saying, “Well, at least you admit it, finally.” She then turned to her brother, tilted her head, and asked, “Was my order unclear?”

“No, Sister. It shall be as you say. We shall strike swiftly. No more delays. No more excuses. And no more mercy.”

The ships opened fire.

During the bombardment, the Knight he had saved approached, bowed, and said, quietly, “Thank you, Prince Arcann.”

He glared at the man. “For what?”

The Knight hesitated. “For saving me?”

“Do not thank me for not allowing a potentially useful tool to go to waste. That is all I did.”

“Y-yes, Prince Arcann.”

“Return to your post. And do not speak to either of us again unless you have something useful to say.”


	7. Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vaylin has returned to Nathema , with Arcann at her side, to be free from the shackles their father placed on her. Arcann has grave misgivings about this course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Arcann Enraged by fleeting-sanity](https://swtorramblings.tumblr.com/post/172780409140/windows-art-by-fleeting-sanity-posting-to-use)

The ships exited hyperspace above Nathema. Even from here, the wounds in the Force were making Arcann slightly ill. No wonder his sister was so thoroughly broken.

A Knight opened the comm channel. Vaylin flinched at the face that appeared on the screen, but she still demanded, “Is everything ready?”

“Yes, Empress,” Jarak responded. “We believe we can undo what we did when you were a child.”

She lifted an eyebrow. Arcann could feel the growing fear, but it was not yet showing in her face. “‘Believe’?”

“There is no real way to test it. Nothing like this has ever been done. The other subjects were too weak to survive, but you are strong. Still, your condition, is unique and finely crafted. Some of our best work.” He stopped, realizing that may not be looked upon kindly.

Arcann did not give him time to apologize for the gaff. He made a gesture, and the communication was cut. Let the torturer sweat, if his species did.

“This is dangerous, and it is unnecessary. Father will soon be dead, and your chains will truly be broken.”

Arcann had never seen his sister so scared since the day she had been taken. This world frightened her. Her tormentors frightened her. The only thing that frightened her more, that drove her to this desperate act, was Father having any power over her. “But how will my power be freed? I will never be whole unless…”

“No, Vaylin. Your power is growing, you may yet gain your full strength without help. If not, we will find a better way than this. Do not let these monsters do more to you than they have already done. Let us leave this place and destroy anyone that holds any control over you. They are few enough. Then you will be free.

“Please, Sister, I do not wish to lose you.”

He did not speak of it, but the conditioning might also prove useful, if he could find a way to use it himself. She had grown more unstable, her behavior erratic. If he hadn’t been here for her, he did not know what she would have been. He wanted to protect her even, if necessary, from herself.

Finally, she smiled. She looked relieved. “You are right, Brother. There is no need for this. However, before we leave.” She turned, and that relieved smile turned vicious. She reopened the comms. She looked at Jarak and called out, “Turn the Sanitarium to glass!”

The Fleet began to fire, and did not stop until there was nothing left of the place she had spent her childhood. The inhabitants died too quickly to fully appease her, but they died screaming. It was like music to her, Arcann could see it in her face. She would enjoy the recordings of the open channel, he was sure.

The rage left her voice, and she said happily, “Also, I will finally have my window.”

* * *

Phares had dreamed of this place. It was every bit as horrible as she imagined. Valkorion had told her that it would be Vaylin’s next move, that she would come here to free her mind finally of the conditioning he had imposed on it. This could not be allowed.

However, when she arrived with Lana, all that was left of the installation was dust and shards of glass. The Eternal Fleet was nowhere to be seen. Valkorion appeared.

“This is my son’s doing. They did not have enough time to free her, and we would have felt it, even from here.”

“So, she will be vulnerable,” Phares said. She hated the idea of using the phrase, she much preferred honorable combat, but Vaylin was simply too dangerous, especially with Arcann at her side.

“Yes, and with her incapacitated, my son will be no trouble for your forces. You only have to force a confrontation.”

Valkorion faded. Phares knew that he could not be trusted, but did not see an alternative, and Lana was right: Vaylin and Arcann were monsters, Valkorion had just revealed them.

Deep in the mind of his former Wrath, the Emperor smiled.


	8. Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After destroying the Sanitarium on Nathema, Arcann and Vaylin take the Eternal Fleet to Odessan to destroy the Alliance, along with their depraved father, once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Arcann and Vaylin Against Phares](https://swtorramblings.tumblr.com/post/172733007185/ashes-art-commissioned-from-cystemic)

The Eternal Fleet circled Odessan, bombarding the world, destroying any ship, no matter how small, that attempted to leave. No troops had been landed. There was no point. The Empress was not interested in holding ground. She was only interested in the Alliance’s complete annihilation.

Phares had, once again, taken Valkorion’s advice and contacted Vaylin. He had said to take advantage of her pride and rage to force her into a personal confrontation, and she could see he’d been right as she said, “Act like an empress, and not a child.”

Vaylin began to fume, and the Commander had a moment of hope, quickly ending as Arcann stepped up, placed his mechanical hand on the Empress’ shoulder, and said, “Do not listen, Sister. Bomb them to ash. That is the way of an Empress.”

She put her living hand on his mechanical one. “Thank you, Arcann. You’ve always been a good brother.”

He knew she didn’t really mean it, but he accepted it with good grace.

Valkorion appeared to Phares and said, “You have failed. She will now bomb your Alliance out of existence. Perhaps you are not worthy of the throne any more than my children.”

“We still have a chance. We will simply have to take the fight to them. Once we have confronted her, the command will still stop her. Once we dispose of her, her brother can be handled.

“Perhaps.” Valkorion faded. Phares was worried. He seemed entirely too amused.

The Skytroopers opened fire. While the surviving members of the Outlander’s team were skilled, there were just too many of the droids.The grifter, the one with the horn, died first. Then the spy, Theron, who Vaylin had described as “the one with the nice hair and the implants”. Phares actually cried out as he fell, to Arcann’s surprise. Perhaps they were closer than the reports showed.

Then, the warrior, with the markings on his face. The thief that had taken to liking large guns. Finally, the only ones left were the Outlander herself and her fellow Sith.

Vaylin gestured, and the Skytroopers ceased fire.

“You are beaten, Outlander. Surrender.”

“What, and be locked back up in carbonite? No, Empress, this ends here.”

Vaylin feigned shock and then sadness. “Oh, no, you would not have gone back to your prison. You would have been tortured by droids on some distant world until you died, and Father was forced to possess someone weaker if he could. And then they would have been tortured. And so on, until he was destroyed or weakened enough to be irrelevant.”

Arcann had to admit, his sister had exceeded herself. It was vicious, risky, but might actually work. And the horrors it would put their father through would please him.

Still, when Vaylin looked over her shoulder at him, he knew his face betrayed his distaste. It was too risky, and it sacrificed too much. It put who knows how many through horrors that might actually match what she had endured. He could not condone it, even now, unless there was no other way.

Vaylin grinned at him, turned back to Phares. “Or, we’ll just remove your arms and legs and drop you into a supernova. You were the one that listened to Father, again and again, and it would be a lot less trouble for everyone.”

He silently thanked her for that.

“But, you are right, it ends here. One rule, then: No phrases. No use of my torture. If the word ‘kneel’ passes your lips, the Skytroopers will open fire and continue until you both are nothing but stains, whatever else happens. If you win fairly, perhaps you will be allowed to leave. Are we clear?”

The two Sith raised their red blades. “Perfectly,” answered Phares.

Vaylin grinned again and leaped forward, her lightsaber igniting in her hands.

“No, Sister!” Arcann shouted. He had gotten careless. He had known how eager she had been for this fight. Even now, she wanted to prove herself to their father by crushing him with her strength. To prove herself worthy to rule, by destroying him herself.

He understood that need. He had overcome it at great cost.

Regrets are for cowards, he thought. He leaped into the fight his sister had started.

She had done well during his few moments of hesitation. She had fended off several blows, and struck back a number of times herself. Still, she would not be able to defeat them both. He landed and engaged Beniko.

Their sabers locked, and she asked him, “Why? Why leave the throne to her?”

He answered her with a powerful slash, which she barely avoided. There was also a time when he would have allowed himself to be taunted. That had cost him, too. His reasons were his own, and he would not give them up.

They continued their fight in silence, then. He had to admit, he had missed this. And fighting at his sister’s side was exhilarating. It was not like fighting with his twin, but she was family. They had a bond, and in this fight, they allowed that bond to guide them.

Some day, one of them might die at the other’s hand. Most likely him, he knew, if he wasn’t careful. But, now, they fought as one.

Finally, the Outlander unleashed a blast of Force energy, knocking Vaylin passed Arcann. That was a mistake. It gave her distance, allowed her to focus her power. Suddenly, Lana’s arms were forced apart, and before she could recover, Arcann’s weapon struck. Lana gasped, looked over to the Outlander, and fell to the floor.

Phares looked stricken as her final ally fell. Arcann smiled, though he knew it could not be seen, and flung the fallen woman off of the platform. No respect for the weak. Or the dead.

“Lana!” Phares shouted, and tried to catch her, even knowing she was already gone. She stood, gestured, and the other Sith’s weapon flew to her hand. “Now you’ll suffer before you die.”

“Do you really think you can make me suffer more than Father already has?” Vaylin responded.

“We will not be the ones suffering, Outlander. Not anymore.”

Still, the battle quickly became a stalemate, then turned against the siblings. Phares raged at the deaths of her friends and loved ones, and that rage made her powerful, quick, without fear. She parried a dozen blows, two dozen, without slowing. She finally landed a blow on Arcann’s mask, leaving him blind in that eye. In the same moment, she slashed Vaylin’s leg, disabling her briefly. It looked for a time like she might defeat them both.

As Phares turned to finish off his sister, though, he threw his lightsaber at her back. She reflexively deflected it, but she left herself open to Vaylin’s Force lightning, staggering her. Weakened, she was no longer able to defend herself so effectively. Arcann ripped off his mask so he could see with both eyes, and continued his assault, with Vaylin recovering enough from her injury to join him. Eventually, one of his blows destroyed Beniko’s lightsaber, and the two of them together began to overwhelm the former Commander. Phares was was in pain from a score of small wounds, but continued to fight.

Then, as Arcann slashed again at her, he felt something change and stopped mid-swing. Vaylin, being the less battle-hardened of the two, was unable to stop herself. Phares arms dropped to her sides, along with her defense, and Vaylin’s blow ran the Outlander through.

As their father had planned the whole time.

Phares gasped, dropping her lightsaber. She looked into Vaylin’s eyes and smiled, saying, “I guess now you’ll find out how it feels.”

Vaylin stepped back, shouting, “Oh, no. No no no!” Phares fell to the floor, exploding with that same energy Valkorion had when she had killed him, years before.

His sister tried to escape, but it was far too late. The swirling energy that was their father flowed around her, into her, not caring about her screams. Eventually, she fell to her knees and began rocking forward and back, sobbing quietly.

He looked down at her. “He’s won.” No one was left to answer.


	9. Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Alliance has fallen, but with the death of its Commander, Phares, the spirit of Valkorion has passed into his daughter. Arcann has found solutions to this and other concerns and begins to implement them.

Vaylin had been the same since the battle in the skies over Odessan, which had left the Alliance base a smoking ruin. While she seemed awake, whatever she was seeing was not reality. She wept often, muttered unintelligibly to the other presence in her mind, and sometimes cried out. Arcann could feel terror and pain emanating from her most of the time.

Still, in this state she was harmless, and so was their father. It had given him time.

He stood in Valkorion’s vault on Nathema, found by accident when he was trying to build a new prison for his sister and Valkorion. Disgusting though it was, it had seemed the only way, but the moment they had found the vault he knew there was another within and had gone to claim it. 

The world did not frighten him any longer, as fear had been burned from him as much as mercy. Its maddening effects held no purchase on his mind. He wondered if that was because he was stronger, or already too broken for it to affect. It made no difference.

He smiled. He had what he had come for. It was time to return.

* * *

Arcann appeared on the vast, broken landscape of his sister’s mind. He could feel her madness, the damage their father had inflicted years before. The fight for supremacy had further injured her. Still, she was holding her own against the greatest threat the galaxy had ever seen, even after so many days. If she was weakening, Arcann could not see it, but he knew she would eventually. Valkorion was pure spirit, fueled by the latest world he had consumed, while Vaylin, for all her power, was still mortal, and even if her will did not falter, her body eventually would.

Had they successfully unleashed her full strength, she would have destroyed Valkorion by now, Arcann was sure. However, it was just as likely that Jarak’s procedure would have destroyed her, instead. Arcann did not regret his advice. 

Finally, he saw the pair, locked in combat, their power swirling between them.

Valkorion noticed him first, smiled, and shifted position so that he could face them both. “Ah, my son, you have come to join your sister in her destruction. How touching.”

He relented in his attack for a moment, and Vaylin staggered forward. She glared at him and spat back, “I am not the one who will be destroyed, ‘Father’!”

He only chuckled. “Of course not.”

“I believe she is correct. I have brought someone who wishes to have words with you,” Arcann said, producing the mental construct of the holocron he had brought from the vault.

Valkorion only laughed again. “Do you believe that bringing my father here will help you destroy me? I was his superior as a child, and I am so much more, now.”

“No, Father, not Dramath. You had imprisoned him long enough, but there was another that wanted to see you, one last time.”

He lifted the device, and released the spirit within. Valkorion showed a moment of concern. “Senya.”

“Husband.” Without another word, she struck, blindingly fast, forcing him back away from her children.

Arcann took his sister’s arm, steadying her. “Can you fight?”

Pulling away, she scowled at him and growled, “Get out of the way and find out.” She produced a lightsaber of her own and was suddenly by Senya’s side, fighting alongside her mother for the first and last time.

Arcann smiled and leaped, joining his family against the thing they all hated.

Valkorion’s amusement was quickly lost, as the fury of the family he had denied and destroyed smashed against his defenses. His barrier kept them at bay, but he could not strike back. Suddenly, Vaylin lowered her weapon for a moment and struck with a burst of lightning powerful enough to breach his shield, and Arcann and Senya were able to inflict grievous wounds on the centuries-old being.

Light pouring from his injuries, he shouted, “Enough!” Power exploded from him, flinging his opponents away, and in a moment he had taken and crushed the holocron. He said with smug satisfaction, “Now, Senya, how will you fight me?”

Mist began to rise from Senya’s body, the holocron having tied her to reality, but she just smiled. “I never fought hard enough during my life. Now you will find out what happens when I do.”

Before she could vanish completely, she expended all of her power against him, driving him to his knees, using up much of his strength. Arcann thanked her silently. He could not tell what his sister was feeling about their mother’s sacrifice.

“Now, ‘Father’, we are going to end this,” she said.

“It is over. You no longer have the strength to resist us both.”

He smiled that insufferable smile again. “You are right, my son, I cannot defeat you both. Kneel before the Dragon of Zakuul!”

They both fell to their knees, hunched over, as Vaylin had in the physical world. Now Arcann understood her pain. “How, Father?”

“We are in her mind. You never removed her conditioning. The rules apply to you as much as to her, and so, you are beaten.”

Valkorion and Arcann both slowly realized that they heard a mad, but quiet, laugh. Vaylin looked up from where she crouched.

“Everyone knows me for murderous rage. For the madness you inflicted on me. Even for my hatred of odd numbers. You all forget that I can be clever. And this is a card you should not have played, ‘Father’.” Vaylin suddenly smiled at Valkorion. “You are right. This is my mind. The mind you conditioned. And where are you right now?”

“Daughter…”

“Kneel, ‘Father’! Kneel before the Dragon of Zakuul!”

Now, Valkorian felt the pain. The pain that he had put his children through all their lives. He tried to rally, to defend himself, and then, it was too late. Vaylin stood, glowing with strength, which she unleashed on him with abandon. Finally, it was the Emperor that screamed.

She continued for what seemed to Arcann like hours, laughing madly the entire time. Finally, Valkorion was burning, skin and hair falling from him as ash, bone showing through his face. Finally, much of her power drained, Empress Vaylin shouted, “Brother, finish him!”

Arcann quickly recovered his feet, leaping to his father, lightsaber drawn and ready.

Valkorion finally had fear in his eyes. Arcann struck swiftly, brutally.

“Please, Son…”

“You should have chosen differently, Father. You should have killed me. If it were Thexan standing here, he might have shown you mercy.”

Valkorion’s remaining screams were brief.

They opened their eyes, Arcann from where he knelt, Vaylin from where she was curled on her bed, the remains of the datacron that had allowed this between them. She got up, weary as she was, and knelt next to him. He was shocked when she leaned forward and hugged him. She whispered in his ear, “Thank you, Brother. You saved me.”

He disentangled himself and stood. He responded, “And you saved us both. Now, we must prepare for what comes next.”

She seemed hurt by his coldness, but it was brief. “Yes. Meet me in an hour in the throne room.”

* * *

She was on the Eternal Throne, having changed from her tattered and bloodied robes to her uniform as High Justice. Arcann found that fitting. She was issuing orders to the Fleet and her Knights, so he waited for her to acknowledge him.

He thought back through their lives together, the two of them and his brother. Of playing in the swamps. How she idolized them both. She would have left with Senya if they had, he was sure. They had been too arrogant in their strength and position, and had not cared about what it might do to her. She had needed her mother desperately, it was obvious even then. Perhaps they had, as well. If only they hadn’t been so blind.

That was the first time he’d betrayed her. He did so again when he hadn’t visited her, hadn’t freed her. And again when he had struck down his brother, who had been her only solace for those years. Finally, when he had encouraged her violence as his enforcer.

And, now, he was going to betray her one final time.

Finally, she stood and gestured him forward, smiling. It was not even vicious, it was almost warm. She trusted him. “Thank you, Brother. I am free and the throne is mine again. What would you take as a reward for your courage and cunning?”

He took a deep breath before answering. “Only the answer to a question. Do you realize that, now that Father is truly destroyed, and with my brother dead, I have the strongest claim to the Eternal Throne?”

She frowned, her hand moving absently to the lightsaber at her belt. “I suppose by law you do. However, you do not have the power to take it, so what of it?”

“I simply wished to hear you acknowledge it.” She looked relieved. He hoped that it was because she had genuinely not wanted to kill him. It didn’t matter.

“Kneel before the Dragon of Zakuul!”

Her eyes glowed that sickly purple, and she fell to her knees, groaning. “No! How did you…”

He walked to her and looked down. “The command works for whoever you recognize has the best claim to the throne. You would have been truly free only if you had killed me. And now, it is too late. I am sorry.”

“But, why? You wanted to protect me. I could feel it.”

“And you will be protected. I will not lose you. But, you are a threat to everyone, and that threat must end.”

“You’ve become Father! Monster!”

He leaned forward and struck, saying, “Perhaps.” He lifted her gently. The last words she heard were, “But I hope that you, at least, will not suffer.”

And, again, the Emperor was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler for this chapter follows:
> 
> In Dragons, I established a couple of rules for Vaylin’s command phrase. First, it will work on anyone in Vaylin’s mindscape. Second, that it works for whoever the victim recognizes as the most worthy of the throne rather than just Valkorion. That’s why both Arcann and Vaylin succumb to it in the moment Valkorion uses it on them, because for that moment they believe he is.
> 
> It is also why Valkorion succumbs when Vaylin uses it on him.


	10. The Passing Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Arcann has succeeded in all of his goals save one. It is now time to complete that last task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Arcann and Vaylin On The Throne by fleeting-sanity](https://swtorramblings.tumblr.com/post/172781124930/the-passing-years-art-by-fleeting-sanity-posted)

Upon his throne, Arcann looked out at images from across his Empire. He had surpassed his father in almost all ways. In his conquests, his reach, in the order and, eventually, peace he had brought. In the destruction of the Old Gods, felled by his own power and that of Knights brought from all over the galaxy. In his conquest of Iokath, which trebled his power. In the looting of his father’s vault and gaining control of its contents.

In the blood he had spilled.

The only way he had not surpassed Valkorion was in longevity. Still mortal, the Emperor had rushed to accomplish his goals in the paltry few decades he had. And he had succeeded in that short time. Only one task remained.

He turned to face the Eternal Throne, and, with it, his sister. His greatest failure and regret.

At first, he had kept her there to give his reign legitimacy. There had been those loyal to her, and he’d wanted them to know that she had fallen, and to whom. Eventually, her presence had become a comfort. He had always told her that he would not lose her, and now, she was always beside him. As she should be.

He had tried to find another solution than dreamless imprisonment, a way to end her madness, to give her a life. He had found one, early in his reign, but had never used it. He did not know if it was a better answer. Now, he was out of time, and the only alternative was her death or perpetual imprisonment. He could not accept either.

His attendants lifted the block of carbonite from where it was mounted, carefully, even reverently. They were young, too young to have lived through Vaylin’s reign, and Arcann had expunged all records of that time. Ordered that no one speak of them on pain of death. He accepted the role he had wrested from her, and knew that history would recognize him, correctly, as a monster. He refused to allow it to view her as the same.

He lead the way to the ritual chamber, hoping that he had the strength left to do what was necessary.

* * *

She was just regaining consciousness, her memories a jumble. She remembered her brother speaking to her, kindly. Then, his betrayal. A sharp sting in the neck, and nothing more before waking wherever she now was. She felt weak and her eyes were unseeing.

Her Force powers were not much stronger than her body, but she could sense him in the dark. Her first impulse was to lash out, to try to destroy him, but she couldn’t. She wanted to run, to hide, to never be found. She was on the verge of tears as she said, “Father?”

Arcann felt a sting at the word. Was he so like their sire, now? He knew his sister would hate him, but did he have to bear her fearing him? “No, Sister, he is truly gone.”

The fear she had been feeling dropped away, but the rage remained. She knew it was useless. “What have you done to me, Brother?”

“I have delayed your fate. You have been in carbonite for many years.”

“What, you were that afraid of me?”

“Of you. For you. Now, all of that ends.”

She blinked furiously, trying to see him. “So now you have the courage to kill me? Fine. End it, Arcann.”

“No. If that is courage, I do not have it.”

“Then why are we here?”

“I cannot let you destroy my work, and I will not let you destroy yourself. We are here to free you, finally, the only way we can.”

She could see him, slightly. He not only felt to her senses like Father, he actually looked a bit like him, too. So old, so calm. So uncaring about everything. No, almost everything? She was too tired to tell. Some of her earlier fear returned. “What do you mean?”

He did not want to explain, even knowing how little it would matter. But she deserved to know. “I will break the bonds Father placed on you, but that is only part of the problem. The pain you have endured, the things you have seen and done. Perhaps, with time, you could overcome all of that. I like to think so. You are strong. But you are too powerful, too uncontrolled, to risk that. So, all of it must be forgotten. All of the pain, all of the betrayals, washed away.”

“What? No! They make me who I am! You may as well kill me!”

He sighed. “No, though that may be your wish, I am sorry that I am too selfish. You must survive me.”

She had started to struggle against her own weakness, trying to act. That stopped her. “Survive you?”

“I have lived long. I have done terrible things to bring order to the galaxy. It will soon be over. I expend the last of my life to save you.”

“Then, please, don’t do this, just let me go. I don’t want to be alone.”

He laid his living hand on her shoulder, bent down, and kissed her forehead. “You will not be.”

Voices rose around her, other presences she had not sensed. Arcann glowed with power, his own, theirs. He sang to her, like her mother had so long ago, though the words were strange.

The final fall of Izax  
Brings hope to all life  
Feel the peaceful warmth  
Leave behind your strife.  
Your old life must end  
Before it is too late.  
Feel the tears of Scyva  
Wash away your fate.

He began to trace the markings she had received in her cage with his power. They burned, causing her to cry out from the pain, but she could feel her chains falling away. It was almost worth the suffering, and now, maybe she could muster the power to stop him from what came next.

Before she could act, he whispered, “Goodbye, Vaylin.” Yet again, she felt a stabbing pain, and nothing more.

The last of his strength spent, Arcann fell to the floor. Shortly, he could feel his servants lifting him, making his body comfortable. It did not matter. All that mattered were the voices he heard. He smiled.

“Thank you, Son.”

“Come, we shall wait for our sister.”

He died content.

* * *

She woke, not knowing where she was. A metal room, filled with people. She did not know them. She did not know herself.

There was a man, scarred, bearded, unmoving. Her eyes were drawn to him. She stood and approached, though her legs were weak. “Who is he?” she asked of those surrounding him.

A woman approached, tall, blue skinned, with yellow, faceted eyes. She responded, “One who would have burned the galaxy for you, and almost did.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” She reached out a hand, almost touching him, but pulled her hand back. “Did he at least have some good in his life?”

“Perhaps some, here and there. Not enough. But, I hope, he had some good in his death.”

“I’m crying. Why am I crying?”

“I cannot say. Come, you have family to meet, and they will care for you well while you learn.”

The nameless woman finally looked away from the man, and asked, “Who am I?”

The other woman smiled down at her and said, “That is your choice.”


End file.
